


The Rosebud Job

by silverpetals97



Series: Queens Consulting & Associates [1]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Leverage Fusion, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Gen, hacker!anne, hitter!anna, how do you british, jane is in the series but not in this fic, mastermind!lina, parr is mostly mentioned, she appears in like. two scenes though, thief!kat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:09:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27991299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverpetals97/pseuds/silverpetals97
Summary: Hitter. Hacker. Thief. And a begrudging mastermind.After his company's designs were stolen, Henry Tudor hires three criminal experts and an old friend to get them back for him. But as anyone in the criminal game knows, things rarely go as planned.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Anna of Cleves & Catherine of Aragon & Katherine Howard, Anne Boleyn & Anna of Cleves & Katherine Howard, Anne Boleyn & Anne of Cleves, Anne Boleyn & Catherine of Aragon, Anne of Cleves & Katherine Howard
Series: Queens Consulting & Associates [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945366
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	1. One Job, and That's It

**Author's Note:**

> if you've by chance read my other fic in this series, you probably already know how this ends. but i just wanted to write it anyway, so that's why this fic exists lol. enjoy :)

_Catalina de Aragon. Private Investigator._

Catalina de Aragon’s new life began like any other: that is, being hired by a CEO to steal back some stolen plans.

The sun had almost sunken below the skyline when he approached her in the Convent Garden Pub. Lina paid her dues, having cleared off a plate and just about finishing her glass of whiskey.

He, as always, caught her eye—Henry Tudor’s large frame and striking ginger hair was not easy to miss. Lina groaned inwardly, rubbing her temple. Why was he even here? With that immaculate grey suit, he should have been in some company meeting or charity gala. He certainly wasn’t trying to impress her—at least, that was what Lina told herself. If he were, it would be… awkward, to say the least.

No. No, she was _not_ going to deal with _him_. Especially not now.

Lina collected her things, praying she could make a run for the door and forget this even happened.

“Lina?”

A flash of trepidation showed on her face. Henry eyed her curiously, then her expression dropped to a blank one. She was not going to deal with him tonight, Lina decided, standing to leave.

“Sit,” Henry said. It’s calm and soft enough to be non-threatening to anyone else who heard him say it, but to those who knew him even just as an acquaintance: Henry Tudor was not going to take no for an answer.

“What do you want,” Lina snapped.

Henry clicked open his briefcase and handed her over a somewhat weighted file. Lina flipped it open. Printed at the top of the first page, in bolded, all-capitalized text, was her own name.

“Head of global security and risk management for Rivers International over the span of seven years, private investigator for the past three. And an impressive list of accomplishments under both careers,” he said. “I have a job for you.”

“What makes you think I would be willing to work for you?” she asked, irritated.

Henry paused for a few seconds, probably contemplating on how to phrase his dilemma. _Or crafting another lie,_ Lina snarked in her mind.

“Tudor Incorporated was developing new designs for advanced state-of-the-art medical equipment for nearly a decade. Millions went into research and development,” he explained. “The shareholders’ meeting is in four days, and our designs went missing last week. And the best part: out of the blue, Kendal announced new project designs.”

Kendal Pharmaceuticals & Technologies. Tudor Inc.’s top competitor. It’s certainly not impossible, she thought, that Kendal stole Tudor’s medical technology designs.

“And what do you want me to do about it?” Lina asked. At this point, the least she could do was humour him by letting him finish the proposal.

“I need you to steal them back.”

Well. That was definitely… something else.

“No. No way. I am _not_ a thief, Mr. Tudor.” Then, she added, “And you still haven’t given me any reason to work for you.”

Henry chose to ignore the second statement, instead replying: “Thieves, I have.”

The ginger-haired man set three more files onto the booth table. “I assume you’ve been acquainted with some of the other professionals I’ve hired.”

Lina sighed, hurriedly checking over the files without much effort. Her eyebrow arched on the second. The third left her gobsmacked.

_“Anne Boleyn?”_

“Is there anyone better?”

Lina paused.

“No.” Of course not.

“I have thieves,” he gestured to the files, “I just need one honest person to watch them.”

Lina broke into a smile, and so did he.

“Good for you. Good luck with that, Henry.”

The private investigator grabbed her bag and made a brisk walk to the entrance. _This day could not get any crazier._

She made it onto the street, syncing herself into the flow of the crowd, before she heard a shout: _“Wait!”_

Lina walked faster.

“Three hundred thousand pounds,” he called over the crowd. Lina stopped—she didn’t need this attention on her—and, against her best interests, slowed down just a bit for him to catch up. “That’s for them. For you, twice that amount.”

“I’m not interested in money, Mr. Tudor.”

Henry stopped talking. He was out of leverage, she realized. She almost turned and left, when— 

“Your daughter… She stayed at St. Nicholas Hospital, didn’t she?”

Did he just— 

“Do not bring Maria into this,” she hissed, voice taking on a dangerous edge.

“The equipment failure that cost her her life was Kendal-manufactured. Their CEO knew there was something wrong with the machines but they still approved it. She died at their hands.”

Henry leaned in closer.

“How badly do you want to screw the company that let Maria die?”

And that was how Catalina de Aragon found herself in an interim base, right across from the towering Kendal office building. This building used to house offices for some kind of box company that went bankrupt and closed a few years ago, now perfect for housing their base of operations. Lina entered one of the higher floor rooms, silence greeting her.

To the right, a table with a laptop—one that Lina didn’t own—already set up on top of it. Blueprint schematics were strewn across the wooden surface, annotated by someone else in multicoloured pens. A little odd, since the schematics were already shown on the laptop screen to begin with, but she wasn’t going to mention it.

_These must have been our thief’s,_ Lina thought. If memory served her right, the thief much preferred paper blueprints over digital ones. One of her old hideouts with (useless) papers all over the place in addition to her own equivalent of an evidence board (though lacking anything substantial) and a cabinet filled with (unused and unmarked) schematics had been a… memorable find, if a bit disappointing. That girl was brilliant at covering her tracks.

Which meant this desk clutter was hers. Lina sighed, but held her tongue. _Live and let live. After all, it’s just one job._

After filing away the schematics, she pulled up a nearby swivel chair and set her focus on the laptop. A green sticky note was stuck to the screen: _Pleasure working with you, Ari_. It wasn’t signed. It didn’t need to be.

Seeing everything in check, the mastermind finally turned her eyes to the mark’s building.

Showtime.

“Oi, I _can_ control myself in these, thank you very much,” a cheeky young woman laughed, grabbing a case of three earbuds and sticking one into her ear. Her raven hair—part of it in space buns—flowed in the wind as she zipped across the roof in a pair of green Heelys. “‘Sides, in what situation would _I_ ever end up by the edge of a roof?”

Her temporary crewmate gave her (and the comms) a skeptical look. “Trust me, what you lot have got’s practically ancient.” She tossed the box upward.

_Anne Boleyn. Hacker._

_The year was 2002. The sky showed no signs of sadness, the weather perfect and beaches’ sands clean and smooth. The island held a beachside villa more gorgeous than some of the most expensive houses in the world. Most would consider it paradise—and at the moment, for the manager, it was anything but._

_He raced through the island’s vegetation, a pair of security guards and a concierge staff member tailing him. “I assure you, ma’am, there must have been a mistake,” he fretted over the phone._

_“She came straight from the airport into the villa, sir.”_

_The manager glowered at the guard who spoke. “So you didn’t actually_ see _her—”_

_“The credit card numbers checked out!” the concierge guy said._

_The group stopped short of the villa’s front door. The manager produced three sharp raps against its wooden surface, but there was no answer. Behind him, the guard and concierge shared a bemused glance._

_At last, the manager fished his copy of the keys and entered the villa, much to the chagrin of the eighteen-year-old draped over the living room sofa, who’d donned a dressing gown and was now watching Netflix._

_The manager deadpanned, “Does that look like Anne Hathaway to you?”_

For a split-second moment, the box stopped mid-air—then, lightning fast, it’s snatched out of the air by the youngest member of their crew. The end of her ponytail was dyed a signature pink, and her green eyes sparkled with unfettered excitement.

With a semi-accepting hum and a shrug, she put a comm into her ear. “There are lots of ways you could end up at the edge of a roof.”

_Kat. Infiltration and Unconventional Retrieval._

_To any other child not older than eleven, the vault was a daunting place to be in. For Kat, it was a challenge—one she could finally accomplish._

_The young girl had bypassed security and cameras, locked doors and air ducts alike to get to this vault, and she wasn’t keen on stopping anymore. With a lockpick and a stolen keycard, Kat was in._

_The vault inside was a lot trickier than the vault outside, and just as all-over-the-place, Kat noted. Bright red lasers crawled the room, and a lone pedestal sat in the middle of the room with a safe on top of it. It was the size and kind you’d just about expect to see in a hotel room._

_Why he would put a single safe inside a vault was always kind of confusing to Kat. But who was she to question it?_

_Music came to life in her mind’s ear as she went to work. She danced with the lasers and found the rhythm of the safe’s code._

_Her eyes lit up as she retrieved from the safe a precious trinket: an old cassette tape, labelled only with_ JH. — Kat _._

_Minutes later, outside the manor, a young girl ran away smiling with her treasure in hand._

Anne scoffed as she skated another round with her Heelys. “As a hacker? Hah, I don’t think so.”

“Just saying, it’s not us wearing the wheeled shoes,” another retorted dryly, her red leather jacket contrasting her dark skin. “Kat, may I?” The box, now just with one lone earbud, landed in her hands.

_Anna von Kleve._ **_[REDACTED]_ ** _—_

No, that isn’t… 

“What’s that?” Kat asked.

Anna sighed. “Nothing. Don’t mind that.”

_Anna von Kleve. Combat-Specialized Freelancer._

_There were some perks to being an ambassador’s daughter. One of them was having a convenient alibi._

_She and her family were currently in Germany for some party Anna didn’t prioritize enough to learn the reason for; she hadn’t been back in a while ever since they had relocated to England for her father’s job. As the gala reached its point of full swing, Anna slipped away from the main event unnoticed, through corridors and eventually stopping upon a nondescript door._

_In this room sat maybe eight, ten people, all dressed in formal attire and seemed to be arguing-slash-bidding over what looked to be a hard drive. As you would normally do at the night of a gala._

_They froze. Anna did, too, flustered. “_ Äh… Guten Abend? _”_

_A concerning amount of gunfire erupted from the room, which everyone there could only hope was covered by the noise of the main event just a few corridors over. After a few moments of silence, only the ambassador’s daughter had still kept her consciousness._

_Anna pocketed the hard drive, and muttered into her comms: “Got it.”_

“Hmm. I haven’t used this rig since last year, in Dresden. Anna was there too, I think,” Kat said while she secured the rigging.

“Yeah… yeah, I remember you there. Did pretty well on that job, _Li_ _ebling_.”

_“My inferences were right, then,”_ Aragon chimed in through her earbud.

“All set?” Anne said, “We don’t ‘ave all night.”

A grin spread across Anna’s face. “You’re just jealous Kat got the score on that one.”

_“All right, on my count. No freelancing, Boleyn. Five, four, three—”_

“Relax, Ari.”

Aragon paused. Kat could practically feel the annoyance radiating through the comms.

_“Five, four, three, two, one.”_


	2. And So It Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heist time!

A cheeky smile spread across Kat’s face as Lina’s countdown hit _one_. She bolted off the rooftop, placing all her faith in her skills and rig, and freefell down the side of the building. The breakneck speeds made the wind flow exuberantly through her hair.

Velocity was a symphony, and it was about to hit its crescendo—but just before it did, Kat halted the ropes. Forty, maybe fifty storeys spanned the space between her and the ground. _Hmm, not bad._

The teenager flipped herself upright. Through the lightly tinted glass, her eyes traced the dark, empty interior of a room. The green light in the corner caught her notice.

“Detectors are on,” she said.

Lina's voice buzzed through.  _ “Use the binary.” _

Kat fiddled around her…  _ toolbelt _ would be generous, but yes, it was more or less a toolbelt. She slotted that odd contraption somewhere into there…

_ Hm, yep. Here it is. _

She removed the device from her toolbelt, careful not to drop it and probably smash a car down there or something. The thing was… interesting, to say the least—looked kind of like a cross between a water gun, pliers and an electric toothbrush.

Kat traced a circle onto the pane, then flipped the device over and traced the circle a second time. Over the light winds, a soft sizzling noise filled her ears. The circular glass plate seemed to loosen up just a little bit.

Perfect.

The thief fiddled around her equipment some more, fishing out a suction. The glass caught moonlight as she pulled it out of its place. Now with an entrance, Kat slid through the opening with easy grace.

Back on the roof, Anna and Boleyn watched Kat as she swan dove off the skyscraper. They shared a look. The look changed. Anna raised an eyebrow, and took off sprinting towards the grate, Boleyn not far behind.

The hitter and hacker climbed down the grate, manoeuvering through to the edge of an elevator shaft. Anna vaguely registered Kat working through her own section of the building, and Aragon giving a few words over to their thief—lengthy drops were not completely unfamiliar to her, but she still felt a little uneasy on her feet.

Boleyn wasn't really having it, either. Anna almost felt bad if Boleyn weren't being so cocky at the roof just moments ago.

Or maybe she just hated elevators. Anna didn't know.

“Comin’ up!” Boleyn shouted, snapping Anna out of her reverie. She jolted backwards as an elevator rose to their aid. Inside, Kat leaned against the railing, humming an upbeat, funky tune.

Anna and Boleyn stepped into the elevator, a metal box of cold corporate transportation. “Aragon, what floor is it on?”

_ “Forty-second,”  _ Aragon said,  _ “Topmost floor of the research and development division.” _ Boleyn hit the appropriate number.

The ride down was brief, and thank heavens it was. Between Kat’s bouncy restlessness, having hit her peak conditions for an adrenaline rush, and Boleyn being uncharacteristically quiet and pensive, the aura was not something Anna liked. The trio stepped out as the screen read  _ 42 _ and a  _ ding _ rang out.

Anna gave their thief one last look in the eye, conveying  _ good luck _ , and headed towards the R&D lab with Boleyn.

Thanks to their intuition—and the schematics on Boleyn's phone—Anna and her partner navigated through the labyrinthian corridors of the forty-second floor, halting just in front of a nondescript door. This was the place.

Boleyn fiddled with her phone, for a moment just filled with a wall of code, then twelve little dashes popped up on the screen. “Twelve-digit code. Not bad, Kendal.”

As the hacker worked, Anna turned her attention on guard—and, out of curiosity, to the two others on comms with them.

_ “I’m at the security room,”  _ Kat said. Anna could imagine her curious green eyes peeking just over the door window.

Aragon was quick to respond.  _ “How many guards are there?” _

The pink-haired thief counted softly to herself.  _ “Hm… ten? I think?” _

_ “Count the haircuts,”  _ Aragon clarified.  _ “We need to be certain.” _

A pause. More whispered counting.

_ “No, six. Six of them.” _

_ “ _ Only _ six?”  _ Aragon’s voice raised with alarm.

Kat’s and Aragon’s voices faded into Anna’s peripheral senses. Footfalls and faint chatter were coming up—and it wasn’t through the comms.

“Crap,” Anna muttered in her native German.

Boleyn didn’t bother looking up from her work, even at Anna’s remark. She scowled. Anna looked closer at Boleyn’s phone screen—totally out of professional intrigue and not because she was starting to care for the snarky hacker—and pursed her lips. The screen’s colours shook through the colour spectrum as it glitched.

Boleyn must have felt her staring, because she said, “The system’s fighting back.”

“Does it usually do that?” Anna asked, still very much aware of the nearing footfalls.

“No,” she replied. “I need more time.”

_ “Why are they here half an hour early—?” _

Silence for a moment, from everyone.

Aragon sighed.  _ “Right, it’s  _ this _ season. Championships must be tonight. Why did I…” _

_ “Championship?”  _ Kat asked.  _ “Of what?” _

_ “Football,” _ Aragon said as if it were somewhat obvious.

The sound of frustration Anna would usually only associate with gamers shifted her focus away from her other two crewmates to Boleyn, while still tracking the footfalls. Instead of the phone Anna had expected to see, Boleyn wielded a tablet into battle—and yes, that seemed to be an appropriate description.

“And on our expense,” she growled. “Did Parr install a bloody  _ Marlow _ on this door lock?”

Anna’s eyes widened ever slightly. Marlow Security Systems were infamous for being unbeatable, and if Boleyn was using that as a comparison… 

She definitely needed more time.

“Don’t aggravate them.”

The words from Anna made Anne stop, and regrettably so. “What’re you on—about…” she trailed off, because the hitter was nowhere in sight.

Who was in sight, though? Security.

_ “Merde.” _

Still wary of her programs and the hard-as-Marlow security technology for Kendal’s R&D lab engaging in warfare, Anne stepped back and raised her hands.  _ Don’t aggravate them.  _ She heard her programs running— 

Anna appeared behind them, fighting quick like a lightning storm, until each guard fell. Gently, but unconscious nonetheless. 

—And the long-awaited  _ click  _ from the door sounded like harmony in her ears. All in the span of, what, five seconds?

_ She’s good,  _ Anne thought.

“You’re welcome.” The hitter grinned smugly.

_ Never mind. _

Anne put away her tablet and turned her eyes at the door.

The first thing she noticed inside the lab was how cold it was. Surely it didn’t  _ need _ to be this cold? What use was air conditioning in a place and time like this, anyway? She should have brought a jumper or jacket or  _ something _ . But the weather was at the cusp of summer, so why would she have?

She shook her thoughts away.  _ Focus, Annie. _

_ Anne. _

She turned her eyes back momentarily, where Anna kept watch, and trudged along into the freezer. R&D lab.

Oddly enough, the room felt almost abandoned. Random mechanical parts were scattered about, half-finished prototypes left untouched on the tables and stacks of notebooks and papers outlined the skyline of New York City.

A lone computer nestled in the corner, untouched by dust.

Anne moved swiftly towards it, hacking into the computer systems until the metaphorical iron gates swung wide open. Her hand on the mouse twitched, eager to find the files and get out of here as quickly as possible, when Anne stopped.

The desktop image lit up the room, with Catherine Parr herself in the photo with some of her mates, with some kind of building behind them, reminiscent of antiquity or the Renaissance. University, she guessed.

Flanking her were a pale-skinned redhead with a twinkle in her eyes, and a blond man with a coy smile playing on his lips. He looked almost familiar and left a sour taste in her mouth.

Twitching back out of her stupor, Anne went to work. The designs were well-hidden for a non-cybersecurity person such as Parr, a welcome exercise and reprieve from the lab’s lock.

Anne’s eyes scanned down the line of files and folders she’d narrowed it down to—ones with odder names, less self-explanatory than  _ Kendal Pharmaceuticals & Technologies Statement of Financial Position December 2019 _ or  _ Photos of Joseph _ . (That latter one was filled with pictures of a pure black cat. Its multicoloured collar with the dangling fire charm was quite adorable, if you asked Anne.)

She passed  _ P. Tempest, Pineapples, Porcupine, Prose,  _ before finally landing on the folder titled  _ Project Thorn.  _ Ari had said this was the one. Hastily, Anne opened the folder and virtually ran through the files. These were Tudor’s designs.

The hacker just about almost transferred Project Thorn to her phone wirelessly, when she remembered that weird little tidbit from the operation briefing. Henry Tudor, for whatever reason he had through that thick skull of his, wanted it in a USB stick.  _ A USB stick. _ Who even used those anymore?

Anne would admit, it had its merits. But with this level of urgency? That was just inefficient.

As she mentally mocked their client’s technological decisions, she fished out the USB stick from the pocket of her backpack. It took four tries to get it into the port (another reason this was an awful choice) but after that, the transfer was smooth sailing.

She left the room with Tudor’s designs and more than a few surprises for Parr when she’d eventually return to her computer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> advanced happy new year, everyone!!


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the way they came in blocked, the crew scrambles to find an exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no tws i believe. enjoy! :)

_“Erm, we have a problem,”_ Kat’s voice came through Anna’s ear, _“The guards, the oblivious ones here? They’ve caught on. And long story short, we can’t exit back through the roof.”_

She and Boleyn stopped in their escape towards the roof. They shared a glance. Her hacker partner half-reluctantly asked, “Each for herself, then?”

_“No.”_ It was Aragon who spoke this time. _“Take the lift. We,”_ she paused for dramatic effect, _“are going to do the burn scam.”_

“Classic,” Anna commented offhandedly. “We’ll meet you at the entrance.”

The duo entered the lift, Anna promptly rifling through Boleyn’s backpack as they descended to Kat’s level. She tossed a green plaid button-down business blouse Boleyn’s way as the hacker shuffled through their stashed-away duffle bag of “extras”, so to speak, with the necessary burn scam equipment. Anna put on a formal red blouse herself.

The lift dinged, and their pink-haired thief grinned as she entered. Some prosthetics, special effects makeup, and a pair of crutches later, their Kat had suffered a horrible accident that had left her scarred. And she was also an office worker now. Truly a terrible fate for a brilliant young criminal.

As the field trio’s burn scam preparation had been ongoing, Lina had been busy packing up their equipment inside the box company office. She’d taken Boleyn’s laptop, Kat’s schematics, and all other traces of their being here, and stored them away in a mustard yellow rucksack. Taking one last look around the quiet office, Lina slung the rucksack over her shoulder and made her exit. It was time to help the others make theirs’.

Lina arrived with the car at the front entrance of the Kendal building, still without sight of her hacker, hitter and thief. That was expected—the building, after all, was not short of storeys to travel through.

What Lina didn’t expect was a late night visit from Miss Catherine Parr herself.

The curly-haired chief executive officer was still in her navy business suit when she sauntered down the pavement, the night slightly cloaking her presence, and the mastermind had only noticed her once her form was illuminated against the light that shone through the entrance’s glass doors.

Boleyn, Kat and Anna were going to walk through those lift doors and unwittingly collide with the mark herself if Lina didn’t think of anything within the next few seconds.

She closed her eyes, following infinite paths of possibilities, each with varied successes in outcomes. She rushed out of the car, making haste toward Parr. The moment she caught up to the woman, less than a metre away from the lifts, Lina plastered a smile on her face and threw all the paths away on a whim.

“Oi!” the guard yelled, a bit aggressively for Lina’s tastes. The security here must be ticked off by their little heist, and as a former head of security herself, she couldn’t blame them. Tudor’s thieves were just too good.

And her, too, she supposed.

“Bernard, it’s all right,” Parr told him. “Yes, Miss…?” 

“Noelle,” Lina said smoothly. “Noelle Drew. I’m—”

“There has been a breach in security!” the guard blurted out.

Parr turned to him, eyes wide, then back to her. Those soft, warm eyes sharpened, looking Lina up and down and flickering with the spark of analysis and suspicion.

_Say something, you dolt!_ Lina's internal monologue snapped.

_“What?”_ she gasped. Feigning ignorance now, are we? “ _Dios mío_ , this was terrible timing. Is everything all right?”

Lina supposed her naturally stunned expression wasn’t far off from whatever genuine, believable look Parr and Bernard would let their guards down for, because Parr’s eyes softened and Bernard’s shoulders relaxed.

But she still needed to get Catherine Parr away from the lifts, and if she was lucky, put Bernard at ease for the burn scam to work at its best.

_“I'm slowing the lift,”_ she heard Boleyn through the earbud. _“But whatever you're up to, Ari, do it quick.”_

_If I were lucky,_ Lina muttered mentally, _Lucky, or clever._

“Wait, what does the thief look like?”

“Thieves,” Bernard corrected her. He rattled off Boleyn’s and Anna’s descriptions, no doubt relaying it from the other security staff in the building. Probably the ones Anna had taken down, too.

“Oh,” Lina said quietly, “ _Oh_ no. I think I saw them.”

“What? Where?”

“Running down the pavement, opposite Chelsea Park.”

Bernard and Parr locked eyes, the latter giving the slightest of nods. Bernard muttered something into his handheld transceiver before walking off with a resolute look in his eyes.

“Sorry about that,” Parr said, “now what were you here for, Miss Drew?”

_“Nearly at the ground floor,”_ Anna warned.

Boleyn’s words echoed through her mind once more. _Quick!_

“Can we speak somewhere more”—Lina glanced around the office lobby, as if it were bustling with prying people—“private?”

Two more security guards came down and took Bernard’s place at the reception.

“We have a small consultation room on this floor,” Parr informed her, “will that do?”

Lina nodded.

“Then of course.”

As Parr took the lead towards the consultation room, Lina heard Kat urging the Boleyn girl to tamp down the lift’s _ding_ , lest the CEO take notice and return to the area.

Confirming that the burn scam worked, with Boleyn, Anna and Kat out safe and on their way to Chelsea Park, Lina smoothly plucked the earbud out from its place and slid it into her pocket.

This was between her and Parr only.

She dug this hole out for herself, she might as well take _something_ from it. 

“Your comms went offline,” Anne said as Ari finally approached her. “What happened? What did you tell Parr?”

“Where are the designs?”

“Tudor’s messenger or whomever came to pick it up. Now what happened there with Parr?”

“I told her the truth.”

_“What?”_

“Nothing pertaining to the con, you, Anna, Kat or Henry.”

“So who—or what— _did_ it pertain to?”

“It’s none of your business, Boleyn,” she snapped roughly.

In all their years of knowing each other, she never took on that tone. It shocked Anne, but more than that, it worried her.

“So then what?”

Almost as if she believed Parr was a good person, Ari dejectedly mumbled: “She denied it.”

“And you believe her?”

“Of course not.”

And although the words themselves said otherwise, anybody who knew the mastermind as long as she has knew that Catalina de Aragon was a terrible liar.

“Enough of that,” Ari said, trying to lighten the mood. Her eyes darted around, before she finally asked, “Where are Anna and Kat?”

“Anna took her stargazing,” Anne shrugged, waving toward the heart of Chelsea Park. Neither of them could see the two from here, but that didn’t matter as long as they were fine. Anne grinned. “We did pretty good, eh?”

“Erm…”

She lightly elbowed the mastermind.

“Okay, fine. We did good,” Ari smiled. “And Anna used you as bait.”

“Oh shut it,” Anne said, though it lacked any bite to be taken literally.

“I didn’t think working with thieves would be so…”

“Fun?”

Ari paused, before she nodded. “Yeah. Fun.”

“I enjoyed it too, y’know,” Anne said, gazing into Ari’s eyes. “So did Kat and Anna.”

“I know.”

A comfortable silence fell between the hacker and the mastermind. Everything was peaceful. Everything seemed… right. 

Everything was _not_ right.

_“Lina!”_ Henry’s voice through the phone rattled her awake. She checked the time. _Why… at four in the morning?_

“What?” she hissed.

_“The meeting is_ today _! Where are my designs?”_

“We sent them off yesterday, exactly how you wanted it!”

Lina’s memory rewinded, pointing out exactly where things could have gone wrong. Intercepted en route, the messenger wasn’t Henry’s, Boleyn faked transferring the files… _No, Anne wouldn’t have done that._

_Would she?_

Lina shook off the thought as Henry continued shouting. _“I knew I shouldn’t have… You were supposed to watch them!”_

“I did,” Lina snapped back.

_“I’m freezing the payments. To everyone.”_ He paused. “ _You know… You know what? Meet me at this address in one hour.”_ A _ping_ sounded off. A text from Henry. _“Don’t be late.”_

Lina rubbed her eyes and gathered all her strength to get out of bed and get sorted.

The click-clack of Lina's heels echoed as she entered one of the seemingly abandoned warehouses. She loosened her posture a little, pulling her hands out of her coat pockets. The docks were very much chilly, especially at five in the bloody morning.

The quiet seemed to dissipate as she walked further into the heart of the warehouse. Arguing took precedent over the ambient seaside noise, ebbing and flowing in its volume and intensity.

“Traitor,” she heard Anna hiss, “Knew something was off with you the second we met.”

“Me?” Boleyn scoffed, as if Anna had told her she couldn't possibly have the skills to hack the Secret Intelligence Service (Lina knows she has), “ _You’re_ the one being dodgy about your career, mate.”

Kat stayed silent for a moment, before speaking up: “Annie, you were in charge of transferring the files—”

“Do _not_ ,” Boleyn's voice became dangerously low, “call me that.”

“This is why I work alone,” Anna muttered, her words carrying as much bite in its tone but blurring a little in the expression in her eyes.

Hm… it could be _you_ ,” Kat pointed at Lina by way of signalling her arrival. The other two turned their heads towards her.

Lina stopped in her tracks. _“Me?”_

“No,” Boleyn said almost immediately. Anna just looked conflicted.

“Well, if it’s not any of us, then who?” Kat huffed.

_If it’s not any of us_ , Lina thought, _then who…_

_I’m in the opposite building. Boleyn, Anna and Kat on the roof. Kat lets Boleyn and Anna in, handles security. Boleyn cracks the code, Anna fights the guards. I distract Parr. Boleyn retrieves files. Designs in check. Inside team leaves via the front door, I pick them up. Parr is none the wiser. Still in check._

_At the handoff. Boleyn goes over the files, transfers it, everyone is watching. Check._

_Boleyn hands over the USB. Knowing all three of them, they keep track of both Boleyn and the messenger, at least as far as the eye can see. So maybe..._

Lina zoned back into the argument, catching a fragment of a sentence: “You two saw I tracked that USB stick right ‘til it reached Tudor’s doorstep…”

_Never mind. Check._

_Everyone at every time is accounted for. Then who…_

Oh.

_Oh._

_“Okay!”_ Lina yelled. Three sets of eyes fell on her, judging silently. “Now, would anyone get paid here?”

Boleyn looked at her as if she were a boomer.

“Would you agree to meeting up…”

“One job, and that’s it,” Kat mumbled, bitterness edging her voice. “That was supposed to be it.”

Lina continued, “We were all witnesses to each other. No one saw anything, and besides, stealing from thieves…” 

The three shared uneasy glances, to each other, to her, and back again. They were all professionals. It would be bloody difficult to pull something and get away with it.

“So if it's not any of us, and we're all here only because the payments didn't go through…” 

Anna froze. Boleyn was livid. Kat's eyes darted across the room.

They barely made it out in time for the warehouse to explode into flames and debris.


End file.
